Wednesday, July 16, 2008

My good wife has just left after her second visit in some months. Although I was initially taken aback at how fast she was coping with the imprisonment of a husband, especially one who loved her so despite her complaints of my being "passive-aggressive," whatever that means, and lazy and negligent and uncaring, I now realise she has to live her life too and cannot wait for me like Penelope(she of the legend of Troy). She must move on, though it pains me that it is so. She said she is making every effort to get me out, in close consultation with judicial authorities and the police, and cannot wait to get back together with me and start afresh. But this is just her kindness and I know that so much time spent apart will certainly have its effect on the marriage. Long distance relationships rarely work, especially when one of the parties involved is imprisoned.

In what seems to be a pattern emerging, another of my limbs has gone missing, this time a foot. An inexplicable thing has happened and a ferocious dog is now my new cellmate. While I welcomed the companionship after many weeks of solitary confinement(although the cell is rather luxurious when lived in alone. You get the cot to yourself, as also the commode/toilet bowl, and the other prisoners look at you enviously. I cannot deny this gives me a certain sense of pleasure, although I know this is wrong.), I had not, even in some of my wilder and more dashing dreams, envisioned a canine cellmate. We didn't take to each other at all and I expressed my displeasure at this arrangement vehemently to the warden, who then expressed his displeasure back by spitting in my face. The warden is a kind man, though, and treats my wife most respectfully, escorting her to my cell, standing a close distance away for guarding her from the envious glances of, and other things thrown at her by, the other prisoners, and seeing her off safely outside. For my wife is a very attractive woman and the world is an evil place. We need good men like him.

The dog, however, is a creature of evil. They have somehow arrested it and sent it to jail, although under what pretext or charge, no one knows. Shoo, sit, heel, down, sleep, drop dead, don't pee there and other regular canine commands do not seem to work on this hellish creature and it routinely ignores them and does as it would. I have lost days of sleep because of this...thing and have napped slightly only when it shut its ghoulish eye. Suffice it to say that yesterday, as I was sleeping on account of extreme and uncontrollable exhaustion and had therefore let down my guard, the hellhound carefully chalked out its plan to destroy me and bit off my right foot. Although I was deeply apologetic about summoning the doctor and the medical staff all the way from Wing D again, I did point out that I was justified this time and that this was the second limb I had lost in my stay here and I really could not afford to lose any more. The doctor seemed to soften at this and reduced the expression of his irritation to just injecting me without an alcohol swab.

January 1st:-

It is the new year. I have spent over six months here and have come to know a lot of people in the prison. Wing B houses perhaps the most dangerous, and therefore interesting, inmates of all the wings. Wing A and C are for female criminals and therefore has the most traffic moving in and out of it. I shall not delve into details here but they are rather adventurous and good-looking and the men love it.

New developments, new developments. One of my kidneys has gone missing too and the doctor tells me it is my lawyer who has sold it on eBay. Although I am stunned at this betrayal by my lawyer, I am more stunned there is an online market for used kidneys and amazed at the reach and application of the Internet. After months of searching, which has cost him a lot of money, apparently, my lawyer(former lawyer, I should say.) has come upon nothing. Not an iota of proof in my support. And he has used my credit card for all his transactions, so the bill payment happens from my wealth. I really hate the man now. Also, I don't know how I'm going to get out of here. The warden doesn't like me, so I'm not going to be allowed to call for another lawyer too.

January 21st:-

It's all over now. My lawyer has apparently escaped with my wife. The warden informs me they were seen yesterday catching a plane for Mauritius and the words "second honeymoon" were overheard. Now, considering my wife and I have ourselves not had a second honeymoon, this clandestine affair has possibly been going on for quite some time. I am not depressed, I am not angry, I understand. The warden could have done a better job of hiding his glee, though.

The dog has died. Never have I been more gleeful at any animal's death. In fact, never have I actually been gleeful at an animal's death. But vengeance is mine. Yesterday, I was attempting to write something in here but this ridiculously dull and stupid animal kept snapping at me with its sharp teeth and I had to keep pushing it away with my one good arm, the other having been bitten off by its much more docile, although only slightly more talkative, predecessor in the cell. So I couldn't write and that angered me greatly, for this is the only good thing happening in my life now. Finally, I could not take it any more and fought back, pouncing on the animal in a bestial rage I did not at all know I possessed within me. The animal too seemed surprised at this sudden counterattack and retreated to a corner, tail between its legs, but I would not let go. I bit off one of its feet and when the medical attendants were taking the animal away to the super-speciality veterinary hospital close by, the good doctor in the prison came up to me and said I had to be put down and he was sorry, but there was nothing he could do about it. But I did receive the good news that the animal had perished, and I emitted a fiendish laughter.

Things seemed to be going well so far, I don't know what went wrong. I guess this is a lesson not to get trapped in one of those scams where you need to sell useless products to people who don't need it. I have only learnt it the hard way.

[nivedita] No, I didn't think of the shadily named Book of Mazarbul. You know what that sounds like.

[a million different people] Social message ella alla. I was accosted by a fellow Indian who tried to push this stuff on to me. I put that in at the last moment.

Thankyouthankyouthankyou.

I don't know why you can't go get a beer. There's always time for that. In fact, fuck it, I'm going home tonight and drinking three beers. One for you and one for the road.

[harish] He he, nin tale. Entha indictment-u alla.

[malaveeka] Aww, you too.

[sandeep] Neen chakka.

[Arvind] Gottilla. Must be something they say in rural Glasgow.

[snippetsnscribbles] Yes, you can breathe easy now. I thought you'd see the funny side of this. But anyway, yes, it's over. Wasn't like it was going to be a long-running series or whatever.

[sandeep] You are uncouth and your opinion is unsolicited. Plus, you smell a bit. Must be that Glaswegian stink.

And no, it wasn't inspired by graphic novelesque gore and tragedy. Alan Moore lamented this same thing when he found people imitating his style. Everyone was copying his grimness and violence but no one was paying attention to the other, more innovative aspects of his work. The spectacular storytelling, the perplexing non-linear narratives, the fallibility of heroes and all that.

There is none of that in this little 'series.' Like Malaveeka says above, it's just silly.

[harish] You shut up now. I told you that video was bad. Now let's move on to more pleasant ventures.